


Honey and Chocolate

by orphan_account



Series: the belly collection [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Chubby Frodo, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Food Sex, M/M, Shy Sam, Weight Gain, there's no plot here just tummies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 14:50:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12773358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sam and Frodo enter domestic bliss. Frodo puts on a little bit of "happy weight" and they're both super into it. They have sex involving honey, chocolate, and too many descriptions of tummies.





	Honey and Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> no warnings apply unless you're sensitive to descriptions of chubbiness and/or sex with food.
> 
> this is literally so rough, I'm so sorry. I'll come back later to edit it, I guess. I just need to release it into the world so that I actually start my homework instead.

He was getting a proper hobbit tummy now, and Sam felt a blush of pride to see his work settling on Frodo. Where before had been the juts of pelvic bone, beautiful in an Elvish sort of way Sam thought, now lay ripe flesh of hobbit comfort. Frodo’s belly pushed gently forward, pulling almost imperceptibly at the buttons of his linen blouse. Sam knew from intimate experience (which frankly, excited him to even think about) that underneath lay the pale expanse of Frodo’s belly, lightly dusted with a path of dark hair below his navel. It pleased Sam to see the extra on Frodo’s hips; but even more beautiful was the tender chest he had started to acquire. Frodo’s nipples stood out like rosebuds in cream, shyly blooming a dusky pink.

Sam was woken from his idle day-dreaming by the very subject of his affections. Frodo’s eyes sparkled, as if he knew exactly why Sam had been so distracted. He flopped down beside his companion in the sweet-smelling grass. Saying nothing, he closed his eyes and stretched out like a cat, allowing Sam a view of the precarious state of his waistband and his shirt that was threatening to become untucked. Frodo sighed and casually slid a palm down the length of his torso as if attempting to flatten down the tug of his shirt over his tummy - no use. Sam, who was already wound up from his fantasies of Frodo’s perfect nipples, felt understandably restless. They sat in companionable silence, listening to the breeze and the birds, breathing in the alfalfa and the light summer scent of each other’s skin.

“Sam-dear,” (Sam was still unaccustomed to Frodo’s free acknowledgment of affection), “I think it’s time we have a second breakfast. I’ve made biscuits; they’re probably cooled enough by now.” Frodo’s eyes opened, and again Sam could see the light of mirth within them. Frodo knew exactly what made Sam tick. The impulse to see one’s lover happy and satisfied was by no means uncommon in hobbit culture. And no hobbit could deny the appeal of a well-fed and softly round form. What made Sam a little different in respect to most hobbits was the extreme to which indulging and lavishing Frodo gave him pleasure. The thought of Frodo happy, sated, and heavy with rich meals of Sam’s making, got him hotter under the collar than anything else. He adored his Frodo, just as Frodo adored his Sam, and loved to spoil him rotten.

Frodo took Sam’s hand in his, pulling him up to standing, and sneaking in a kiss as he did so. Sam flushed. Frodo was cheeky and flirty in the ways courting, in the face of which Sam felt slow and overly formal. They had been growing more comfortable with each other as spring came into summer. Sam often spent nights in Bag End, the windows thrown open to let in cool night air while they coupled. Still, Sam felt the awkwardness of the difference of their station. Frodo had been his employer after all. And despite Frodo’s efforts to reassure him, he still felt most comfortable when he was doing things for Frodo. Which had lead them to stumble upon this… proclivity of Sam’s to cook for Frodo, and sometimes, to feed him too. Sam, though he seemed the practical one, was very prone to imagination, especially when it came to Frodo. And again Frodo seemed to notice that his mind was working ahead of him.

“Sam,” Frodo smiled fondly, “you must be hungry after working since dawn. I know I am and I’ve scarce done a thing aside from going over some old maps. You must think I'm so lazy.”

“Oh no, Frodo, I know the scholarly work you and Mr. Bilbo do is very important for historical and literary – oh.” Frodo had guided one of Sam’s calloused hands to the front of his trousers, and Sam could feel the beginning of hardness there.

“I… suppose I am hungry, too,” Sam amended shakily, feeling a thrill of passion sing through him at the sensation of private warmth under his hand. And out-of-doors where anyone might happen to walk by! Frodo was Tookish, there was no doubt.

The main dining hall of Bag End was spacious, clean, and cozy, with a sturdy table of golden wood in the center. But the effect of the sunlight upon the grain nor the expert carpentry of the table caught Sam’s eye today. Rather, it was what lay upon the table that drew him in. There must have been at least twenty-five lightly steaming biscuits piled high in the middle of the table. Surely too many for just the two of them. But then again, they were hobbits and they both had very healthy appetites.

Five different types of jams shone like gems in their glass pots, and beside the biscuits was a frankly excessive honey pot, sticky sweet from previous meals. There was a large bowl of fresh-churned butter and one of cream cheese. In several smaller tureens, Frodo had prepared the syrup of strawberries, apples, and pears, all sweetened and spiced like some sort of pie filling. The last bowl sat on a contraption of thin metal rods under which sat a column candle. Sam realized that the sweet cloying smell in the air must be coming from this set-up; it was a bowl of chocolate that was being kept warm and fluid by the touch of the flame beneath the bowl. Only Frodo could’ve come up with something so inventive yet frivolous, let alone procure enough chocolate to fill such a bowl (the price of the sweets made Sam’s head spin a little).

Any hobbit’s eyes would have widened at the sight of the spread that lay before them, but somehow the decadence of it all made Sam ache in a way that was less decent than strictly average. Frodo watched Sam through his long lashes; he was flushed high on his cheeks and his eyes were dark but playful.

“Can you make me a biscuit, Sam?” This was how this sort of thing began between the two of them. Frodo would play the part of the naïve and delicate gentry-hobbit – a part that Sam knew was simply a façade that hid the true Frodo, who was a wily and passionate lover, and unafraid to get a little dirty. Sam’s role was a little closer to the truth, as it was hard for him to be anything but genuinely himself.

“Well, what would you like to try first?” Sam began, feeling a warmth suffuse through his body and down to his hairy toes, “It all looks so very lovely.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Frodo had a way of saying common hobbit phrases in a way that made Sam’s body hum. When Frodo agreed on Sam’s point of loveliness, Sam couldn’t help but feel as though Frodo was remarking on _his_ loveliness, which of course was ridiculous because – _oh_. Sam’s self-deprecation was cut short as Frodo moved close, pressing their chests and bellies together and draping his arms around Sam’s neck. It was instinct that drove Sam’s hands to Frodo’s hips, pulling him in closer by the softness that gathered there.

“Lovely,” And with a heady rush, Sam was sure Frodo was referring to him, “let’s start with the honey.”

“Yes. Honey.” Sam took Frodo in for a kiss, and he made one of the delightful sounds that often accompanied Sam taking the lead. The kiss ended and Frodo shot him a goofy grin.

“Yes, honey!”

“Frodo. Surely your educated mind can come up with better wordplay than that,” Sam teased. Frodo leaned forward as if to kiss him again, but murmured in his ear instead.

“I can barely think at all with you so near to me; I think we best become intimate immediately or I shall never craft wordplay again, except for in cases describing your dagger.”

“What dagger?” Sam asked, sensing mischief and playing along.

“Why, the one that fits so nicely into my sheath!”

“Oh,  _that_ dagger? Well you could’ve said so, Mr. Frodo. Unless that was another poor attempt at a pun?”

“Indeed it was my dear Sam, indeed it was. I don’t think the quality of which will improve much until I’ve eaten at least half of this spread and we’ve thoroughly had each other in bed.”

Sam blushed, Frodo could be rather ribald by a plain-hobbit’s standard, but Sam – there was always more to him than met the eye – rather liked that about Frodo. Frodo sat down wordlessly, smiling mildly, but the color on his cheeks betrayed the undercurrent of desire that ran through him too.

Frodo had noticed the weight that he had put on since he and Sam began courting, it hadn’t been completely intentional, merely a product of Sam doting on him and the cozy vulnerability that one allows oneself when they enter a partnership full of love. Frodo thought of the extra he had put on as “happy weight,” the physical manifestation of the comfort he felt as Sam’s partner. When he realized that Sam, shy as he was to admit such things, was thrilled by seeing Frodo a little rounder and a little heavier, Frodo too was excited and began more actively indulging just to see Sam’s bashful thinly-veiled lust.

They began with the honey. Sam cut the first of the flakey buttermilk biscuits in half and spread it liberally with butter, then with great concentration, drizzled a very healthy amount of the sweet gold in between the two halves. He created a sandwich of sorts that oozed sweetness in heavy drops. Frodo bit into it with delight, his eyes closing in pleasure. He made a noise that had Sam willing himself down before he got ahead of himself.

“Oh Sam, you know exactly what like.”

“You have a drop of honey on your cheek,” Sam said, and Frodo’s eyes sparkled with amusement, “Oh do I? Where?” he feigned.

“Just right…” as Sam reached out a thumb to swipe the droplet away, Frodo took it in his mouth instead, like a spoonful of soup when one is sick. Frodo’s tongue stroked gently over the ridges of Sam’s fingerprint, feeling for all the world like hot, wet velvet, but infinitely better. Sam gasped. His tongue was indeed very dexterous and he was making such an exquisite face with those blue eyes of his. Frodo removed his mouth slowly from Sam’s digit, leaving cooling wetness behind.

“It’s always good to have something salty after something sweet, don’t you think?”

“Oh yes, definitely.” And at that, Sam surged forwards to kiss Frodo, tasting that drop of honey he had missed and the warm welcoming Frodo-taste that was intimately familiar. The next two biscuits were also honey, and the two after that were strawberry and apple jam, all of which had a silky base-layer of rich butter. Five biscuits in, Frodo could feel the tautness of his abdomen begin to grow noticeable. His belly felt heavy, but not uncomfortably so, and between his legs felt heavy too. Sam noticed. He began lightly rubbing circles onto the sides of Frodo’s belly, freeing some of the trapped air bubbles that escaped from Frodo in little puffs of belches. Frodo loved this part of over-eating, the heavy slowness that accompanied decadence combined with Sam’s attentive hands soothing his aches and gently bringing more sweets to his lips really got him drawn tight as a bow. And apparently it did the same for Sam.

After the eleventh biscuit and a large swig of tea, Frodo heaved a sigh, letting himself get comfortable. The button of the section of his blouse that stretched across the apex of his tummy had been tight all day, and as Frodo took in his contented sigh, it sprang off with a cheerful ping. The effect this had on Sam was immediate. Sam’s hand jumped to his own crotch, pushing down roughly. Sam made a desperate kind of whine that Frodo had never heard from him before, and he went scarlet when he realized the sound he had made. Seeing Sam in this state wound Frodo up just as much.

“Oh, Sam…” Frodo breathed, full of wanting, “Would you like to unfasten the rest of them?”

“Yes,” Sam managed hurriedly, and began his task with the sort of reverence that he reserved only for seedlings or baby birds. Frodo felt hypersensitive, every brush of Sam’s nimble fingers sent a zing down his spine to his crotch. His shirt was undone, and Sam tenderly pushed it off his shoulders, leaving him bare from the waist up, his tummy on display. Sam, as if transfixed, ran his broad hands across the swell of it, and Frodo arched up in pleasure. His hands were warm and strong and soothing. There was something in the confidence of the touch, as if their bodies knew exactly what to do with one another’s, that effected Frodo deeply. Would there be anyone who knew him as well as his Sam? It didn’t seem to matter at the moment, for Frodo was rather sure that they’d be each other’s for a very long time. A second later, absolutely nothing but Sam’s mouth circling his nipple seemed to matter either.

They were both breathing deeply now, and an intimate combination of the scents of their bodies and the numerous sweet things at the table intoxicated them to a point of reckless abandon. Frodo loved as Sam reached this point, turning from his charming shyness to a hobbit with his own needs to be met. Frodo sucked a mark into his neck, and relished in the sounds Sam made, low and uninhibited moans of pleasure that made Frodo inexplicably happy.

“My dear Sam, I feel rather under-dressed,” he paused to suck again at Sam’s throat, “I think we should get you out of these clothes, and we’ll both go into the bedroom to get more comfortable.” Sam, no longer shy and now overtaken by desire, lifted Frodo by the thighs and held him aloft. Sam loved the way Frodo’s bottom filled out in his hands; round and dimply, and such a treat to squeeze. Frodo loved when Sam revealed his strength like this, they both knew that Frodo had become an increasingly solid hobbit who was somewhat of a task to hoist. But Sam could do so easily, and that was madly attractive to Frodo. Sam carried him to Frodo’s bedroom, the room where they had made love in their first time, kissing him fiercely all the while. He stopped at the doorway.

“Frodo… all that expensive chocolate. We ought not to let it go to waste, right?”

“Oh Sam, you sly, brilliant hobbit! Yes, let’s bring it! We shan’t waste a morsel.”

Sam returned to the bedroom with lightning speed, clutching the bowl of melted chocolate. Frodo had undressed to his underclothes while Sam had been away which had released his pleasantly aching belly from the confines of his trousers, and Sam quickly began to do the same.

“Wait! Darling, let me take a look at you,” Frodo interjected. Sam flushed. He hardly thought of himself as an attractive hobbit, although at least half the Shire thought distinctly differently. Maybe because he personally preferred Frodo’s softness to the tanned muscles of his own chest and back. There was some heaviness to him too, more than Frodo actually, but it sat different upon Sam’s body than it did on Frodo’s. Where Frodo had a warm doughy tummy, Sam had more of a barrel belly of muscles beneath his layer of padding. Frodo’s chest was pretty and vaguely feminine, and while Sam did have flesh to his chest, again most of it was muscular. Where Sam was built big, Frodo was petite and curvy. Frodo’s skin almost shone, unblemished, and Sam was covered densely with light brown hair that turned blonde as his skin tanned in the summer months. In short, they looked fairly different in stature and coloring. Somehow this made the tangle of their bodies all the more beautiful.

“My handsome Sam.” Frodo said, drawing Sam in eagerly and working to untie the knot that fastened his trousers. Frodo unwrapped him like a gift, barely stopping to savor the moment until Sam was bare in front of Frodo, standing between Frodo’s thighs as he sat on the bed. Frodo ran his hands up the backs of Sam’s thighs and over his behind. Sam giggled involuntarily, his head spinning with lust and happiness.

“Frodo, will you… if you want to, I mean…” Sam struggled to find words, and dipped a finger into the warm chocolate instead. Sheepishly, he ran the finger down the middle of his chest, leaving a wake of earthy sweetness. Then he traced the finger around his nipple, and then the other, turning his delicate pink skin a dark brown. Sam took a shaky breath, half nerves and half desire, “I could paint some on you too,” he suggested.

Frodo was immediately lost in the moment, and put his talented tongue to work at Sam’s diaphragm, lapping up the chocolate like a starving man. Sam gasped in pleasure. Frodo too felt a hum go through him; he was leaking in anticipation already. Sam was hard too, and from Frodo’s position on the bed, Sam’s erection rested cloyingly against Frodo’s belly. Frodo pulled him down onto the bed with him, so that Sam sat halfway in his lap. Frodo rocked up to meet him, craving the friction against his hardness, but also the intoxicating feeling of his plump and overfull tummy pressed against Sam’s own stomach. Sam clearly enjoyed the sensation as well and reached to Frodo with chocolate fingers. Sam circled Frodo’s navel and then skirted upwards to fit his fingers lovingly in Frodo’s mouth. Frodo sucked so eagerly that Sam felt he could almost come from the sensation alone. Frodo released him and smiled mischievously, “Give me more, Sam?”

Sam was messier this time, his finesse failing him as Frodo made sinful moans around his chocolate-covered fingers. Sam smeared some on Frodo’s cheek, and not knowing fully why, he was compelled to clean it with his mouth. Frodo laughed joyously and Sam joined him, their bodies beginning to fall into a rhythm as they moved against each other. They were kissing, tasting each other’s chocolate mouths. The smudge of chocolate around Frodo’s navel mingling with the sweat of their bodies. Frodo reached down to hold them both in his hand, stroking a steady pace in time with their bodies.

“Sam, Sam, Sam…” But he could barely answer, Frodo was driving him quickly to the edge of his pleasure. He opened his eyes and looked down at the meeting of their bodies. Frodo’s belly was heavy and round, his hips plush, and his chest soft. The knowledge that Sam had been the cause of this happy weight, that Frodo was his partner and companion to cherish and indulge, drove Sam over the edge with a shudder and a blinding sensation of release. Frodo followed him not a moment later with a resounding cry of ecstasy.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so surprised there's not more hobbit belly fic? They're pretty much ideal for this. lol
> 
> If you enjoyed your time please let me know! Thanks for reading!


End file.
